


Poison Arms

by ackles_likes_snackles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandonment, Alcohol, Angst and Feels, Coda, Guilt, M/M, Post-Episode: s12e03 The Foundry, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 22:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8419303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackles_likes_snackles/pseuds/ackles_likes_snackles
Summary: After his mother decides she needs to leave, Dean shuts down. He feels nothing and he feels everything as he tries to process yet another abandonment. Numbed by countless traumas he’s endured throughout his life, he didn’t think it possible for him to have a breaking point.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Supernatural Prompt Challenge [October 2016]  
> Theme: Horror  
> Prompt: Fright

_“I have to go.”_

Four little words. Four seemingly innocent words that, by themselves, had little meaning. It was these four words that had all the power to shut Dean down again. As soon he heard them, that was it. He could feel himself withdrawing into the deep, dark crevices of his mind, putting up that same familiar wall he’d hid behind for most of his life. That same wall that had kept him safe for so many years from heartache, from pain, from feeling the grip of an icy hand clenching around his heart as it was now. Only now, there was no way to deny the pain as he always had. This was exactly the kind of situation he’d tried to prevent from happening. By creating his own distance. He told himself it was better for everyone that way.

Lately, he’d been letting down his defenses. And really, he couldn’t be angry at anyone but himself. He’d gotten too comfortable with allowing himself to _feel_ and actually allowing himself to believe that things were _good_ for once. Sure, the devil was free to roam the Earth and that had to be dealt with in time, but just this once, he wanted to believe that this _one good thing_ would last. Having his mom back could be a silver lining to his shitstorm of a life. He was finally letting himself believe that maybe everything would work out, that maybe not everything had to be bad. If he could just have this one good thing, he could handle all that other crap. Knowing he could finally have the thing he’d dreamt about ever since he was a boy would give him the strength to push through every day, and hey, even smile once in awhile. They could be a family again. That’s all he’d ever wanted, really. It was why he pulled Sam out of school to look for their dad. It was why he made most of the decisions he did. It was always for that dream of family.

Within mere moments, that dream was once again ripped from his grasp. He’d been within reach, and he’d even been able to hold on for a little while. He’d had it with Lisa and Ben for a period of time, but in the end, it was never what he _truly_ wanted. He hadn’t been able to hold onto that. He’d never been able to hold onto Cas for long, either. He was always leaving, always in and out of Dean’s life. He wanted so desperately to hold onto Cas and tell him that he didn’t have to leave every time. But it would only be a futile attempt. Everyone left him, because he wasn’t worth sticking around for.

He didn’t want to let go this time, though. He wanted to hold on tight and make this last. _Please,_ just make this last. But he couldn’t have this. Of course he couldn’t. He slipped up. He failed. 

_Everybody leaves you, Dean._

It was his fault. He was the reason Mary had been brought back here in the first place. He wanted her back, and he never even stopped to think about how selfish a desire that was. He never stopped to think that maybe she wouldn’t have _wanted_ to be brought back. She was happy in Heaven with John and her two little boys just as she remembered them. Dean took all of that away from her. He and Sam were essentially strangers to her. He’d built up this image of what a perfect family could be for them and it had all come crashing down around him.

He could no longer deny that Mary was miserable here. She was struggling to adjust, and he had ignored it. He had ignored the sounds of her anxious footsteps padding through the bunker every night, the way she clutched her wedding ring on the chain around her neck, even the wistful looks and sadness in her eyes. He had noticed it all, but he had pointedly cast it off as "adjusting to the situation." He had justified it by telling himself and his brother that this wasn’t exactly a normal situation, so of course she was going to act a bit strange at first. He wanted to believe so badly that it would all get better. 

He was a damned fool for having any hope. 

Now he was standing in the Men of Letters library, unable to look at his own mother. The woman he had idolized and of whom he had created the image of a perfect housewife and mother. But none of it was ever her. The version of Mary he had always dreamt of was not the version standing before him. 

She stepped closer into his space, wanting to offer a hug before she left, but he quickly leaned away. He couldn’t touch her now, not after hearing those words. They rang like church bells in his mind. Over and over again, all he could hear was, _“I have to go.”_ It was so loud and prominent inside his head, everything else had seemingly become obsolete. The words were pounding into his skull, but the phantom pain only worked to dull his senses.

If he allowed himself to hug her now, he knew he would break. He wasn’t strong enough _not_ to. He needed to hold out in front her and Sam right now. He needed to feel nothing, because if he didn’t, he would feel everything. And that was so much worse. 

He didn’t look up again until he heard the loud creak of the bunker door being opened and shut. He saw Sam flinch out of the corner of his eye, causing the floodgates of guilt to open up. He let this great thing into his little brother’s life to only have it be taken away, and that guilt weighed him down so much that he felt he wouldn’t be able to stand much longer.

She was gone. 

Mary was gone, and Dean couldn’t even feel surprised by the fact that she had left. He should have seen this coming, really. He should have known nothing like this would last, that it would all come to an inevitable end. He was stupid to try and hope that it wouldn’t. 

_Everybody leaves you, Dean._

It was his biggest fear, being abandoned. He’d never connected the dots before, but looking back on every situation now, there was only one word for what he felt whenever he had gotten close to anyone. 

Fear. 

It was fear of the inevitable. The horrible, messy end that was only sure to come. He was frightened. Scared. Terrified. Getting a taste of what he wanted only made him long for it that much more. It was better to never have had it at all than to have had it and lost it. That was always the reason for the wall he put up.

He retreated quietly to his room sometime later after raiding around the kitchen in search of hard liquor. This wasn’t a “three beers and everything’s good” kind of night. No, he needed the hard stuff for this level of wallowing. Sam quickly withdrew to his own room after sparing a hollow glance at Dean and giving him a solemn nod as he swallowed thickly. Dean only nodded back and let him go. He wanted to be there for Sammy, but he figured they both needed a little space first. And he was damned grateful, because he didn’t think he could be a rock for Sam right now. He was disintegrating all too quickly. 

He soon found himself looking at all those old pictures again. Photographs of smiles and joyful memories. His family. Together and happy. He looked at them with red-rimmed eyes, glazed over with the foggy effects of the liquor. He was slouched against his headboard now, his legs crossed at the ankles. He hadn’t even bothered to pull off his boots before drinking himself into a stupor. Little things like that didn’t seem to matter anymore. He sat there numbly thinking about how everything seemed like such a lie now. Had he reinvented his own memories of his mother to suit his pathetic fantasy of a perfect life? Was any of it ever what he thought it was? 

His thoughts were muddled now and he couldn’t pick any single thought to focus on. Instead of fighting it, he simply let it all wash over him. The aching in his chest was nothing but a constant pain that he was all too familiar with now. The weight of all his feelings hurt so badly, he imagined for a moment if they could actually, physically paralyze him. It was too much. All of it was just _too much._ And yet, he felt so empty. So alone. The emotional pain was so intense and so draining, he vaguely wondered if this was worth a comparison to the physical pain he had felt in Hell. 

Suddenly stricken with panic as a disturbing thought crossed his mind, his chest heaved heavily in an attempt to suck in more air. His lungs constricted, feeling empty and void of oxygen, but he couldn’t seem to fill them enough to breathe properly. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling hot tears roll down his cheeks and took a long swig from the bottle he still gripped in his hand, tipping his head back and letting the alcohol burn it’s way down his throat. The physical sensation brought him down slightly from the overwhelming panic, but the fear continued to pick away at him. 

He’d carried more than his fair share of shit in his day, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he given enough already? Why couldn’t he have this _one good thing_? Why didn’t anyone want him? Why wasn’t he worth sticking around for? Was he so poisoned that everything he touched wilted away? 

A soft knock at his bedroom door broke Dean’s current train of thought, but he didn’t move. He didn’t think he _could._ He simply stayed slouched in his bed, pictures splayed all about and drops of liquor staining his shirt as he stared at nothing. The knock came again, this time a little more prominent. Still, he did nothing. 

He barely even registered the door opening and closing or the weight of the bed tipping slightly as Castiel sat on the other side of the bed beside him. He continued to stare out into the space in front of him, not even wanting to look at Cas. He felt the liquor bottle being taken out of his grip, and while he wanted to, he didn’t put up a fight. They both sat there silently for what seemed like an eternity. Dean wanted to be able to open up to Cas because he was _there_ now, but he was afraid of what would come out if he did. In that moment, however, he was too numb to care. Too far gone to filter his own words.

“She’s gone.” The words came out quiet and broken, Dean’s own voice seeming foreign to him. He felt cold and detached, because it was all just too much. He was used to the stone cold facade. He needed it to deal, always has. Needed it to put up that front to everyone showing he’s fine, because he’s always fine.

Cas reached across the bed to settle a comforting hand over Dean’s own. Dean flinched at the contact and pulled his hand away, ducking his head to hide the oncoming string of tears.

“Dean-” Cas furrowed his brow in concern.

“Don’t,” Dean mumbled. “Just don’t.”

Cas slowly pulled his hand back into his own lap. He cleared his throat and settled further onto the bed next to Dean so that he could lean against the headboard and stretch his legs out in front of him. His movements jostled Dean a bit, but Dean remained numb.

“Cas?”

Dean’s voice was so soft and low, Cas almost didn’t catch his name at first. He turned to Dean, studying his features, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“Why’re you always leavin’?”

There was a definite crack in Dean’s voice at the end, but Cas didn’t comment. He sighed heavily and thought over the question for a long moment. The silence was deafening, and if Dean had it in him, he would push the matter. Instead, he just clenched his jaw and nodded. He dropped his chin to his chest as he choked out a sob. His shoulders were trembling and he covered his face with his hands. 

“Dean, hey-” Cas instantly moved to wrap an arm around Dean’s shaking shoulders and shushed him. He’d learned much about human comforting throughout his years spent on Earth, but ironically, none of it had been from the Winchesters. He knew their ways of dealing with human emotions weren’t exactly the healthiest. He rocked them together slowly and sat there with Dean, holding him tight, making sure Dean knew he wasn’t alone.

“Dean.” Cas’s voice was low and quiet. “I always come back, don’t I?” He squeezed Dean’s shoulder, trying to emphasize his point. “I always come back to you.”

Dean raked his fingers through his hair, pulling hard on the short strands, still refusing to look up at Cas but never moving away from his touch. “But you’re always leavin’, Cas. Always in n’ out. You never stay.” Dean made a frustrated groan. “Never fuckin’ stay.” He shook his head vigorously, his hands still gripping his hair tightly. “Not good ‘nough for you, Cas. Not good ‘nough for anybody.”

Cas moved away then, fuming. He’d be damned if he let Dean talk that way about himself. He grabbed hold of Dean’s hands and pried them from their tight grip in his hair. “Dean. Look at me.” 

Dean only shook his head again and fought to get out of Cas’s grip. “No, Cas! No.” Dean finally looked up at Cas then. His eyes were crazed and red-rimmed, his face was smeared with tears, and he just looked so utterly broken. Cas knit his brows together in confusion at Dean’s rejection. “Okay? No. I get it, Cas, I’m poison. Everybody always leaves. I don’t need your pity.” Dean leaned away from Cas and continued in a softer voice, “Just go.”

Cas didn’t go. Instead, he closed the space between himself and Dean once again to take Dean’s face in the palm of his hand so that Dean would look at him. “I don’t pity you, Dean. I care about you.”

Cas’s voice was firm and unwavering. Dean’s lip trembled and a tear slipped down his cheek as he met Cas’s gaze. It took a moment for Dean to find his voice before he spoke again. “I don’t think I can take this, Cas. I’m-” He swallowed, trying desperately to get past the lump in his throat. “I’m afraid...I just. I can’t take anymore of this, Cas. I’m afraid I’m gonna break.” 

Cas took Dean’s head in both hands then and looked him directly in the eye. “I know you’re frightened, Dean. But I am here with you now. And I won’t leave if you don’t want me to. I feel-” Cas paused a moment and swallowed before looking away, unable to meet Dean’s eyes, “Sometimes I’m not sure I belong.”

“What?” Dean grabbed hold of Cas’s wrists and pulled his hands away, but didn’t let them go. “Cas, that’s crazy. Of course you belong here. You’re-” Dean caught himself and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe Cas could ever think something like that. “You belong here, Cas.” He gripped Cas’s hands tightly in his own and ducked his head, because it was just too much. He couldn’t say these things _and_ look at Cas. “I hate it when you leave. And I-” Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat once more. “I still don’t get why you keep coming back.” He looked up at Cas then, who was now staring back at Dean. “But I’m damn glad you do, Cas.”

Cas softened his look and removed one hand from Dean’s grip to smooth a thumb over Dean’s cheek bone, only half succeeding in wiping away the smudged tears there. “You have me now, Dean.”

A noise that can only be compared to a whimper escaped Dean’s throat at Cas’s words. “Please, Cas.” Dean choked back another sob. “I don’t think I’ll be able to take it if you leave again.” He seemed to crumble into himself then and Cas wrapped his arms tightly around Dean, pulling him in and holding him against his chest. He heard Dean mumbling incoherently, his voice muffled by Cas’s suit jacket. 

 

“I’m not going anywhere, Dean.” Cas wanted so badly to assure Dean of this, but he knew it would take some time. There was a lot to work through. Dean must’ve been feeling so alone and abandoned. If Cas could do anything to lessen the pain for him, he would do it, even if it was just to be with him and hold him.

“Please,” Dean whimpered as he gripped the lapels of Cas’s jacket. His actions were so needy and desperate, Cas had never witnessed Dean in this state before. “Don’t leave me, Cas.” The words were strangled and Dean was once again trembling under Cas’s touch. Cas only held him tighter and shushed him, smoothing wide circles over Dean’s back with one hand.

“I’m right here, Dean.” Cas hooked his chin over Dean’s shoulder and fought to stay as calm and still for Dean as he possibly could. This was Dean wanting him, needing him. And he thought he might finally understand what that meant to both Dean and to himself. “I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me.” 

It was both a promise and a plea. Maybe it was a plea for something more, maybe it was just a plea to stay in this moment. Neither of them questioned it.

Cas held Dean the rest of the night. They stayed like that until the early morning hours, exchanging hidden fears and desperate longings. The unspoken words, however, were the loudest. Dean knew he had been irreparably broken this time. He was standing among the shattered pieces of his heart, unable to piece them back together. This wasn’t something he could repress anymore. 

At some point before the sun came up, Dean fell into an exhausted sleep wrapped in Cas’s arms. He dreamt of darkness and chaos with ever-present feelings of loss and abandonment. The pain was indescribable. Worse than Hell. Yet, there was a single light glowing around him, always swirling around and around. It moved about, endlessly coming and going, but forever remaining constant. Dean felt less pain when it was around. He felt warmer. Safer. He wanted to bask in that light for as long as possible, but just as he felt the light would finally stay with him, it would leave again.

When Dean finally awoke, groggy and confused, it was in the warmth of Cas’s arms. A sudden panic overwhelmed and tensed his muscles, but quickly dissipated when Cas gently ran a hand through his hair in a comforting gesture. He was admittedly afraid of everything that was to come when the memories of last night flooded to the forefront of his mind. Terrified, even.

But for now, even if it were for just a little while, he could be content in the presence and warmth of Cas. 

His light. 

His constant.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://adoringjensen.tumblr.com)


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